


Split

by orphan_account



Category: Red Hot Chili Peppers (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's 2007 and John has decided he's leaving the chili peppers while touring for the release of stadium arcadium. he thinks back on all the failed attempts at a relationship with Anthony





	Split

2007

John Frusciante and Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers sat in the corner of a small, dimly lit tea shop on the outskirts of Osaka, Japan. They were in the middle of the wildly successful Stadium Arcadium album tour, and the effects of the previous night’s performance were visible on both the men’s faces. Flea’s eyes shone unusually bright blue in contrast to the dark circles under his eyes. Behind the long curtain of curly hair, John’s face was slightly sunken in from the stress of constant travel.

“…so,” John said quietly behind his mess of hair. Flea looked up from the newspaper he was idly doodling on. “This is difficult for me to tell you, but I’ve been thinking about leaving the band when this tour is over.”

Flea’s blue eyes widened in surprise, and his face crumpled. The silence quickly turned uncomfortable, and John tried to explain. “I wanted to tell you first, because you’re the only one who has been there for me through absolutely everything. I love the Chili Peppers, Flea. But I’ve changed as a person, and I can’t continue on in this line of work. The spirits around me agree, there’s been a shift in my consciousness, I can’t do this any longer..” John trailed off, uncertain what Flea was thinking behind his blank face.

“..Flea? I love you man.”

Flea smiled sadly. “I know.”

“I’d appreciate if you’d keep this quiet for a little while. I don’t want to stir the band up while we’re doing so well,” John looked his friend in the eyes. “Anthony seems so happy..”

Flea’s melancholy expression turned into a concentrated frown. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Anthony, does it?” He asked slowly, although he already had ideas of his own formulating.

John hid behind his hair, a sure sign he was deflecting. “No..” He tried not to answer too quickly. “It’s about the stress and the creative directions I’m being tugged in.”

Flea raised his eyebrow skeptically. “Is this a done deal? Are you positive you’ve made the right decision?”

Yes. John thought to himself. If I waste any more of my life waiting on Anthony Kiedis to change his mind, I’ll go insane. He nodded his head towards Flea, who took John’s calloused hand into his own.

“Well quitting the band won’t get rid of me, you know.” Flea rubbed his thumb over the burnt skin. “I’ll always be here, ‘specially if you want to talk.” The unspoken implication was clear to both men. Flea knew of the struggles John had in his relationship with Anthony.

John smiled up at his friend; grateful for the support he knew he would find in Flea. Now, if only detaching from the rest of the band would be this easy…

\--

2007

John had firmly made up his mind two nights earlier, while watching a movie in his hotel room outside of Sydney, Australia. He couldn’t remember what the movie was about, which probably had something to do with the extremely wound-up singer who couldn’t stop swooning over pictures of his newborn, Everly. He had been born three months previous, and although everyone on tour could see it killed Anthony to be away from his baby, he owed it to his band to complete the last leg of the tour.

“Look, John,” Anthony said, his eyes bright with love. “Everely-bear’s going to have dimples when he’s older.” He brandished a photo in John’s face.

John smiled up at his old friend from the couch, and took the photo into his own hands. Everely was indeed beautiful; the little boy bore a resemblance to his father, which was evident even in his infancy. “He’s gorgeous, Anth. I can’t even stand to look at him too long, he’s so cute.” John fed into Anthony’s affections easily, after years of intimacy; it was easy to hide small discrepancies in his emotion.

It was hard to look at pictures of Anthony’s family. A bitter part of him still murmured nasty words when John imagined what could have been. This undercurrent of emotion had been quietly chipping at him since Anthony hooked up with Heather, the 22-year old supermodel.

The birth of Everly had been a joy for everyone connected with Anthony, because it brought him such an influx of happiness and new life. John sincerely wanted to wish the singer well, and be at peace with his old friend.

But the Kiedis family was a constant reminder that John would never have Anthony back for himself.

John looked over his friend’s aging face. The wrinkles still held a hint of the good looks Anthony had enjoyed in his youth. The warm brown eyes, so familiar, still made John’s heart skip a beat when Anthony fixed his gaze directly on his. This affect was made worse when Anthony put his head on John’s shoulder, completely oblivious to the internal storm that was going on in his guitarist’s head.

“I’ve wanted this family for so long, John. I’m finally at peace. I know what the universe wants me to do…I’m going to raise this little boy.” He spoke softly, his words muffled by John’s flannel shirt.

Being this close to his former lover put John on edge. His senses heightened as he felt Anthony’s warm breath on his shoulder. “I’m glad you found what you needed.” He said through lightly clenched teeth, mentally smacking himself for putting himself in a situation alone with Anthony. Normally he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable with his friend, but a vivid dream the night previous had brought old memories to the surface that John wished would vanish.

The first time John had a sexual encounter with Anthony was while they were recording Blood Sugar Sex Magik in that secluded mansion in LA. The thing that still drove John crazy when he thought about it was that Anthony had been the one to initiate their, what would ultimately turn out to be, doomed relationship.  
\--

1991

A young, long-haired and shirtless Anthony Kiedis twisted in his bed fitfully. He was not yet used to sleeping in the mansion his band was recording Blood Sugar Sex Magik in. By the position of the full moon in the sky visible from his window, Anthony guessed it was around two in the morning. He wished that his band mates were also night owls, but Flea often turned in early with his daughter Clara. Anthony could often hear John shuffling around his loft of a room late into the evening, but for some reason, Johnny never came out to play late.

A small smile played on Anthony’s lips as he pictured his twenty-one year old guitarist. He had known John since he was eighteen, a skinny, red-haired teenager anxious to prove himself. Over the three years, John had evolved to be a slightly cockier, almost constantly stoned artist – he had also become one of Anthony’s best friends.

As Anthony pictured what John’s face looked like earlier that day while he played with Flea, he felt a warmth spread over his lower abdomen. Although the sensation was not completely unfamiliar, he still frowned to himself at the realization he was becoming aroused while thinking about the younger man.

This had been happening quite often, especially at night when Anthony couldn’t sleep. First he blamed it on the lack of ladies in the house, and tried to remedy the situation by satisfying his needs with a busty blonde he brought home from a bar. But afterwards, when he lay staring at the ceiling with the blonde trying to cuddle, he felt slightly disgusted with himself. He wanted Johnny. He wanted the young boy’s slim frame pressed up against his, he wanted to make those pouty lips open in pleasure as he saw Johnny do uncontrollably when he played the guitar.

Before he realized what he was doing, Anthony found his hand slipping down his smooth stomach and into his loose fitting pajama pants, which had formed a tent shape. He inhaled sharply as his cool fingers touched his hard length, and arched into the sensation.

Without bothering to remove his pants, Anthony’s hand slowly worked up and down his own cock. As he rubbed himself, he tried to think of the blonde he had made orgasm a few nights before. Her lovely, large breasts, her thick ass – Anthony moaned as he pictured himself slowly entering her heat.

But as he got closer to finishing, he couldn’t help the thoughts that took over. He thought of what John’s body would look like naked – what he would look like with his cock hard, standing up against the wall with a smirk on those pouty lips. Anthony imagined that smirk directed at himself, and thought about what it would feel like to rub his own length against John’s. To be pressed up against his young body, to feel John’s hand wrapped around his cock…

The imagery was too much for Anthony, his warm seed spilled into his hand and onto his pajama pants. He laid under the covers, catching his breath for a moment. It had been like this recently – when he masturbated he would begin with old fantasies that would get him off like clockwork – only to give way to the overwhelming thoughts of John.

Anthony felt the warmth of his orgasm spread through his limbs, but instead of sedating him, he felt invigorated. “Fuck..” he murmured quietly to himself, throwing the blanket off his sweaty body and looking around the room for different pants to replace his now-sticky ones.

Padding down the hallway in the middle of the night was always a delicate operation, as Flea was testy to anyone who woke Clara up- she was hard to put down at night. Flea never let Clara stay up to keep Anthony company, and he didn’t want the responsibility of putting her back to sleep if he woke her up – so he walked carefully, and quietly.

He didn’t know exactly where his feet were leading him until he arrived at his destination – the rooftop of the mansion. Before Anthony stepped out onto the rough shingles, his breath caught in his throat.

John was laying on his back, guitar in hand, softly singing to himself with a unlit cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He was looking up at the sky, strumming an inaudible melody. A half-filled glass pipe lay next to him, the light of the full moon gave away his glazed eyes.

“You’re awake too, Johnny?” Anthony called softly, not wanting to startle the young guitarist.

John’s brown eyes swung over to Anthony without turning his head. “I can’t sleep right now. It’s beautiful outside. Check out the stars.” He fished a lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette, inhaling the smoke deep.

Anthony sat next to the shirtless man. “You got one of those for me?”

“This is my last one. But we can share.” John didn’t hesitate in handing over the precious goods. “I don’t suppose you want a hit…?” He offered, gesturing toward the half-filled bowl of pot.

Anthony considered carefully. He was completely sober, and had been for around three years. He wished he could enjoy the lighter drugs without having to worry about it leading him down towards the ones that caused him problems. He knew he shouldn’t indulge, but to be stoned on the rooftop with Johnny… “Yea, what the hell man. One won’t hurt, right?”

John looked slightly surprised, but handed him the colorful glass. “I don’t think trying anything once every hurt anyone.” He said, watching delightedly as Anthony inhaled too much sweet smoke. It was harsh, and he coughed the cloud of smoke out of his lungs.

Anthony felt his muscles relax and his eyes dilate.

“This is..nicer..than I remember, Johnny,” He mumbled, laying back with both hands behind his head. John giggled at the immediate effect of the marijuana. They both fell silent, and John continued to pick at the strings of his guitar as his eyes scanned the sky.

“You play beautifully, you know that?” Anthony was the one to break the quiet, as usual. In the moonlight John’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he turned his head towards Anthony.

“Thanks man. I wouldn’t be half as good if you guys hadn’t given me the opportunity to play in the band,” Anthony started to open his mouth to protest but John continued. “Flea and Chad have taught me a lot about music. I really like the place where we are at.” He smiled sweetly over at his friend, hit the peace pipe once again, and closed his eyes.

Anthony took the opportunity to gaze at his younger companion. John’s frame was slim but solid, and his hips dipped deliciously at his lower abdomen, only to disappear into his sweatpants. Before he realized what he was doing, Anthony was fingering the Chili Pepper tattoo John has on his inner wrist.

John smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. He had noticed the way Anthony had been gazing at him lately, but hadn’t put much thought into it. John was openly bisexual: he didn’t make it overt, but his loyalties did not lay on either side of the playing field. His attractions were based purely on the soul of the person: the shape of their body was trivial to him.

But now it was clear to him that Anthony wanted him. He could feel the waves of lust rolling off his warm body, he could sense that Anthony had recently satisfied himself. He could almost smell it through the singer’s thin summer sleep pants. The thought of Anthony touching himself made John shiver.

“Are you cold?” Anthony murmured, moving closer.

John smiled, his eyes still closed. He could feel the heat of Anthony’s body, he could feel the singer’s long hair tickling his side. “If I said yes, would you agree to help me warm up?” He turned to find himself inches away from Anthony’s face, his eyes unnaturally dark.

“Johnny..I’ve never felt like this about a dude before. I’m.. I’m not gay.”

“Oh good,” John said good-naturedly. “I’m not either.” He ended the conversation entirely by kissing Anthony hard on the mouth. His guitar slowly slid, unnoticed, off the roof .

That morning, a sheepish John had to explain to Flea and Clara (who had gone to get doughnuts early) why his guitar was hanging, suspended, in the front bushes of the house. That wasn’t so bad, but the discarded pajama pants- that was a difficult lie to tell at breakfast, with an overly satisfied Anthony smirking at him from across the table.


End file.
